Gravity

by Tal Bauer

“That weekend was—” Indescribable. “I know we only had a few days together, but it felt like I’d known you for years. And not because you were my hero or because I’d watched you play since I was a teenager, but because… because we just fit together. I’m sure you’ve noticed I’m not great with people. But I felt great with you.”

He gnaws on his lip as our stare holds, holds, holds. “Tu me manques tellement,” he finally breathes. “I miss you so much.”

“How do we fix this? I’ll do whatever it takes, but we have to do something. You can’t keep going like this, and I don’t want…” I shake my head. I don’t want to be without you. “I don’t want this distance,” I say instead.

Is there something we can do? Somewhere we can go?” “Nous? You and me?” “Yes. Us. Like in Vegas, when we went hiking and kayaking together. Let's do that again. Let's get the hell out of Montréal and… What do you do here when everything is frozen? Whatever it is, let's do it. Let's go. Together, Bryce, please.”

“I’m not sure if I'm straight,” I finally say. He stills completely, so motionless it’s like we left his soul back on the road and drove on. I watch his pulse flutter above the hoodie's fabric bunched at his neck. “You seemed sure in Vegas.”

“I play because of you.”

“You’re my hero. You’re a lot of guys’ hero.” “Peut-être. But I wanted to be something different to you.”

“Why me?” I ask. He blows out a breath like he’s barking out a laugh and trying not to break into tears at the same time. “Calisse, if you could answer why someone falls for someone else, you’d be a bazillionaire.”

“You are éblouissant. I wanted to meet you because you are an amazing, talented player, but as soon as I did, I knew I was in trouble. I could not tear myself away, and every minute we were together felt like… perfection. I wanted to ignore everyone else and be only with you. I tried to play it cool, but…” He smiles, sadly.

“You know, you were my first kiss.” “Ever?” “Non. My first with a man. So, peut être, the first I really wanted. And yours is the on...

“Hockey was something I could change. I could spend hours on the river. I could change my release or tighten my grip. I could hone my accuracy and improve my speed. I could become someone else on the ice. For a dirt-poor boy who never owned his own pair of skates, that was as powerful as a drug.”

That is what the whole game is about: uncovering someone else's weakness. Digging it out, over and over and over again. Like when we beat Seattle. We beat them in their minds before we beat them on the ice.” Bryce hesitates. He takes a breath and holds it deep in his chest. “You are my weakness, Hunter.”

I’ve only known indoor rinks and organized games, but he found hockey through his father, his brothers, his family's connection to the land, and then, through himself. Just a river of ice, a boy, and his mind.

He keeps looking back, checking where I am, and each time he does, his smile grows. I haven’t seen him smile like this since Vegas. I hear his laugh rolling down the river, and a part of my chest unclenches.

When I finally reach him, I wrap my arms around his waist from behind and twist. He grabs onto my jacket, I lock my hands on his hips, and we spin, our skates turned out, momentum and inertia working in tandem. A piece of the bank juts out nearby, piled with thick snowdrifts that go to our shoulders. We twirl closer, closer, and then we puff right into the heap.

I end up on my back with him above me. We're pressed chest to chest, our arms still wrapped around each other.

I brush the tips of my gloved fingers down his flushed cheeks. His pupils widen. His lips part. S’il te plaît, leave my heart broken, he told me in the truck. I pull back.

Bryce wiggles until he gets his hands on a solid chunk of ice buried in the snow. He hefts, and then he’s on his knees—knees on either side of my thighs, straddling me, like Vegas, like Vegas—and then back on his feet.

We both try things that are impossible in a confined ice rink inside an arena. Can I hit a puck to the top of that tree? Can I knock that bough clean of snow? Can I close my eyes and know where Bryce is by instinct and feel alone? I already know the answer to that one—yes.

Bryce may be a man famous in the city of Montréal, but his soul belongs here, where hockey was born.

This is the man I have been missing. Not my hero. Not the man from the posters on my teenage walls. The real Bryce, the man from midnights and empty drives and lonely rivers, and the man who looked me in the eyes and dared to risk everything because, somehow, I made his heart beat faster.

What does any of it—hockey, the game, the salary, the chase, the team, the city, the championships—mean without this? Without someone beside you? I understand him today in a way I didn’t then.

“I come to the river when I need to remember. Or—” he shrugs “—when I need to forget. When I need to find myself again.”

“We’ll have to find a place to stay for the night,” he mumbles.

Oh no... I hope there isn't only one bed...

even digs out a dusty air mattress

HAHA LITERALLY ONE BED

It’s a double mattress, so either Bryce and I are going to arm wrestle for it, or we’re going to be cuddling.

Hehehe

“This isn't how I imagined having dinner with you again,” Hunter says. His voice is soft, like he's sharing a secret. “You wanted to have dinner again?” “Yeah.” He stares into the fire and rolls his beer bottle between his palms. “I've wanted to for a while.”

I never knew I was chasing something Until I couldn’t catch you in my dreams Oh, I see you at midnight And I wish I could reach you I wish I could tell you I wish I was enough for you—

I would kiss your eyes before you fall asleep I would cradle your hand in mine and hold you tight to me I would whisper to you every day You might be the love of my life And maybe you were made for me—

“You are enough for me.” Hunter's breath moves through my hair. “Bryce, you are more than enough for me.”

“I don’t know how I am enough for you, Bryce. That’s what’s wrong here. That’s what’s always been wrong. I’m no one. I’m nothing.”

“How could you fall for me?” “How could I not?”

His thumb drags across my cheek. “Nothing’s been the same since we met. Or since that kiss.”

“I’m not the most experienced guy out there, but I do know the difference between a good kiss and a bad one. And that, what we had? That was beyond great. Beyond any kiss I’ve ever had, or anything I’ve ever felt. I was stunned when it happened, and I didn’t know what to do, and I’m sorry, Bryce. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have walked out of that hotel room. I shouldn’t have walked away from you.”

“Maybe that first night, yeah. I was totally starstruck. But then I met you. Not the Bryce Michel on my poster or the rookie who blew my world. You. And I’m…” His eyes search mine, and again, his thumb brushes across my cheek. “I am head over heels for you.”

My eyes close because I can’t keep looking at him. He looks too much like he does in my dreams when my imagination of him whispers, “Je te desire. Mon coeur bat la chamade pour toi.”

I want you. I want to be with you, on the ice and off. I’ve held you after a goal, but now I want to hold you like this. And… more.”

I don’t know what I’m asking for. Please let this be true. Please be certain. Please don't hurt me. Please, please.

“Kiss me again,” Hunter whispers. “Please, kiss me, Bryce.”

I close the distance between us. My eyes never leave his. A breath away, I feel him whisper, “Bryce—” And then my lips are on his, and we are kissing.

He rests his cheek over my heart and closes his eyes. “Je t’adore,” he whispers. “Tu parles français?” “I’m learning.” A kiss to my shoulder. “I want to speak French with you.” Another kiss. “I want to do everything with you.”

That is something my dreams didn’t prepare me for. Beard burn on his cheeks, from me. I had no idea at all how it would feel to see him wearing my desire.

I die the first of what I hope will be a thousand deaths in his arms, and he follows me over the edge, burying his face in my neck as we shatter.

“I’m glad we got away today. And talked.” He smiles. “Oui, this was a very productive talk.” I pull him to me until our noses are practically touching, then tuck a rogue strand of hair behind his ear and hitch my leg over his thigh. “Let’s talk again. Every day.”

Hunter said I think we were meant to find each other. Non, nous étions fait l'un pour l'autre. We were made for each other.

We jump up and dress like we are chasing speed records, and as Guy steps in through the back door, Bryce flips the sleeping bags to hide the very obvious evidence that we spent half the night having sex.

Outside, the storm has remade the world. Inside, we have remade what lies between us.

No one in Montréal was saying my name until you and I played together in Vegas.” “I have been saying your name.” He squeezes my hand. “You have been my favorite player since you joined the NHL.”

Bryce drags his cheek over my cock. “S'il te plaît?” he whispers. I should be the one saying please, but I can't speak. I can't form a single word in my mind. I nod.

My arms wrap around him as I hunt for my taste in his mouth.